


The Best

by jencsi



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:48:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27134107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jencsi/pseuds/jencsi
Summary: I think you already know....
Relationships: Julie "Finn" Finlay/Nick Stokes
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	The Best

She set up a blanket fort in the living room one afternoon. He watched her arrange the blankets and pillows, tucking corners into couch cushions, utilizing the chair and tables to raise the blankets into a tent like structure. She devoted her concentration to this creation the same way she focused on making a fake crime scene for recreation purposes. When she seemed satisfied with her fort, she bounced over to him and insisted “Let’s go inside” taking his arm and guiding him to the entryway of the fort. 

She dropped to her knees first, peeling back the blanket doorway and letting him peek inside. 

“Is this okay?” she asks now of the space she’s created for them. 

At first he makes a face, wondering why she’s asking him that. Of course it’s okay to completely steal his heart and entice him into her beautiful world with her charm and love. But as he observes the small space inside the fort, the one surrounded by blankets over their heads and on all four sides, making the area darker than the rest of the living room, he realizes what she’s implying. She doesn’t want him to feel confined like he had for those hours all those years ago, not that long ago, his brain whispers to him. Shut up, he silently rips into his own subconscious, dropping to his knees alongside her. 

He peers into the space, noticing how she laid out pillows and blankets on the floor over the area rug so they could lay on something soft. She made a wall from one end of the couch and used pillows to secure the other wall. A strip of sunlight filters through one of the thinner sheets, leaving a white beam on the floor where their feet will likely rest. 

“It’s perfect,” he surmises of her construction and care. 

To prove that statement to her, he crawls in first, settling back on the bed of pillows she has made, like a giant bird's nest, he loves it. She follows him, relieved that this is a safe space, one that doesn’t overwhelm him with any residual fears of his entrapment. She seals off the door by lowering the blanket and now it really feels like they are inside a tent. She nestles herself beside him on the explosion of pillows she rounded up from every corner and closet in the house. 

“Nice set up,” he praises her “good foundation, strong walls, base looks good.”

He rattles of construction terms that make no sense to either of them but she giggles anyway. 

“I should start a business then,” she remarks “Finlay’s Forts, how about that?”

“We will rake in millions,” he teases back and she gives him a silly look of disbelief as she rolls over onto her side and scoots her way closer to him. She stretches her arms out, waiting to be embraced, waiting for him to make that move, savoring the way he tucks his arms around her and lifts her gently to rest beside him, pressing her against his side. 

“Are you sure this is okay?” she asks again, rubbing his arm soothingly. 

“Yes darling,” he assures her “you made it and I love it.”

“Okay,” she sighs, relieved, knowing he is being sincere and not hiding his feelings just to give in to her playful demeanor. 

She brings her hand up to caress his cheek, savoring his softness in this moment, grinning, smitten with him and all they have together. After all he’s been through, he has the softest heart, the gentlest hands, the warmest touch, one she craves, something he has no trouble dishing out to her when she asks; 

“Tickles please,” wiggling to get more comfortable in his arms. 

“Yes ma’am,” he soothes in that low voice, one that reminds her of when they are just about to fall asleep or his groggy first thing in the morning voice, intoxicating. 

His hands slide under her shirt and up her back and she shivers immediately, melting at his touch, relishing the feeling of each finger that works it’s way up her back, scratching lightly, sending tingles straight to her stomach. The giggles that escape her are quiet and faint at first. She closes her eyes, letting herself get lost in this space, forgetting everything except how his fingers move across her skin, gliding, so softly, so tender. He zig zags down her spine and she bites her lip. He taps his fingers in a circle just around her lower back and she squirms. He slides them back up to graze each rib, one gentle swipe at a time, whispering as he counts them, one of their favorite games. He swipes one finger under her rib cage and that funny tingling in her stomach shoots up her spine. Her sudden intense shiver makes him smile, the purest reaction, she’s so soft, so ticklish, so adorable. 

He melts into this affection with her, loving how she holds herself, tucking her arms in against her chest, giggling quietly. She savors every touch from him, always wanting such simple things like soft tickles, kisses, hugs, all sorts of physical contact. He can’t complain, any excuse to be soft with her is a gift. The way his fingers play on her skin, connecting soft spots, focusing on the tiny details of her, the freckles that adorn her cheeks that you have to be incredibly close to her to see, how she scrunches her shoulder when he brushes her hair aside and his fingers graze her neck. Passionate nights together were great, but these smaller intimate moments lifted his heart high, her giggles like a drug, luring him to sink into this heaven with her. 

“Can I ask you something?” she whispers, shifting her hands to reach out and flutter under his chin, tickling, reciprocating her soft love. 

“Anything,” he assures her, falling under her affectionate spell. 

“Can I ask you about that night?” she continues, swallowing the nervous lump in her throat at what his reaction will be. 

His body tenses, knowing this was coming at some point but knowing she didn’t make this fort just to hide away and share secrets and demons, she was curious, she had a right to know as someone who seemed to hold her emotions out for the world, she was here, giving him her heart, it was only fair that he gave her a piece of his. 

“All right,” he allows the discussion to proceed. 

“Who did it? Why did they do it? How did they know it would be you specifically? How did they rescue you?” she fires the questions off all at once to spare him some heartache. 

“Walter Gordon,” he speaks his name, for the first time in a long time, possibly ever “his daughter Kelly was in jail for accessory to murder, guess he wanted revenge or something.”

As he speaks, he continues to brush his fingers along her lower back, the motion soothes him as he relives this tale to her. 

“The guys found me because Kelly used to work at some old plant nursery,” he continues “and Grissom figured out that the ants in the box could only be found at that type of place.”

“Ants?” she whimpers confused but having a hunch what he might be telling her. 

“Yeah filthy bastards,” he shakes his head and trembles once at the memory of them on his skin “and it's my damn fault too, they got in because the box cracked after I shot the light out.”

She swallows another lump in her throat, horrified at what he endured. 

“Are you sure?” she tests him with a quiet whisper “they could have found another way in.”

She curls her hands up against her chest, scared, but wanting to be supportive, fearful of reaching out to touch him like she had been doing moments earlier. 

“Positive,” he confirms, reaching for her hands now and holding them, guiding them back to him. He kisses her fingers all at once, nuzzling his cheek against her hand, wanting her touch now more than ever. 

Feeling safe to do so, she slides closer to him, pressing her forehead against his and whimpering a soft “I’m sorry,” 

“Don’t be,” he breathes just a soft and quiet to her “something good came out of it.”

“What?” she asked, unable to discern how any of that could have brought him anything good afterwards. 

“You,” he whispers against her warm forehead and she scrunches her face in confusion. 

“The guys know already cause they saw the video and heard the tape,” he continues to describe his ordeal “but I had my gun with me in there, I came so close to just doing it, pulling the trigger and ending it, just another body in the desert you know?”

“But you didn’t,” she reminds him “you’re strong.” 

He smirks at how she perceives him; strong. Such an unusual word he didn’t really associate with himself. 

“If I had done that,” he pushes on “I wouldn’t be here, with this little slice of heaven right now.” 

He pats her side playfully and manages a smirk and she bites her lip, unsure what to say now. 

“Also Ecklie let Warrick and Cath and I get back on Grissoms team,” he adds that sentiment and she smiles, happy that he got some normalcy back right away. 

“Thank you for telling me that,” she says, shaking slightly at some of the images still bouncing around in her head. She brushes her thumb delicately under his cheek, once, twice, over and over, savoring his skin, some parts rough from when he shaves or doesn’t, some smooth, all warm. He is entranced by her touch, so gentle, so tender. She drags her fingers under his chin, guiding him towards her for a kiss, just one, simple and sweet, enough. 

“Anytime,” he promises her when they separate as if this is just a casual dinner table discussion. 

“I won’t bother you with it again,” she shakes her head. 

“Don’t you worry about that,” he stops her, holding her face in his hands “if you have questions, don’t hesitate, ask, I trust you.” 

His hand brushes against the back of her neck again and she shivers. 

“I promise I won’t tell anyone, ever,” she adds “I’ll take it to the grave.”

She places her hand over her heart then winces and whimpers at her choice of words. 

“It’s okay,” he soothes her soul by lifting her to be closer to him, loving how she buries her face in his chest and sobs in her own agony of processing this information, grieving with him, wishing with all her heart and soul she could have known him back then. She can’t see him smirk at her reaction and genuine care, what a beautiful heart he’s holding. 

“Hey I’ve got an idea,” he explains softly to her rubbing her shoulder “why don’t we order pizza for dinner and sleep in here tonight?”

“Really?” she asks, lifting her head from his chest, excited by that idea. 

“Yeah it’ll be fun,” he continues “we’ll get a few more pillows from the bedroom and some blankets and I think I have a sleeping bag in the closet, we can share.” 

Her eyes light up at this idea. 

“You’re spoiling me,” she declares of his willingness to sleep in the fort tonight. 

“You deserve it,” he says simply “and so much more.” 

“We can play video games and watch a movie, you can pick it, and some football highlights,” she starts listing the ways she wants to spoil him. 

As he listens to her speak with excitement, he rests his hand on her side, thumb grazing a soft spot under her shirt. 

She squirms at this contact and complains, “Your hands are cold” pouting at this sudden change and lack of warmth. 

“Oh sorry,” he apologizes sheepishly “hang on, I’ll warm them up.”

He grabs her sides and squeezes, both hands slipping under her shirt, fingers dancing on her stomach, skittering, tickling. She yelps then dissolves into giggles, squirming, grabbing at his hands, drawing her knees up but losing the battle and falling apart at his touch. She is beautiful in this moment, and always. This is the play she asked for. She draws the fun side out of him in ways no one has managed before. He laughs along with her, reeling her in as she tries to escape. Those whispers in his head from earlier have been beaten out by her laughter. There is no pain here, no darkness, no ants or confined spaces. She took on all of that pain and twisted it into something he never thought he had; a bright future. All he sees is sunshine radiate from her, she's the breath of fresh air he would never take for granted again. If he would have known she was waiting for him all these years later, that this was what was in store, he would have clawed his way out of that box to get to her sooner. 

It is a testament to their relationship that they can go from having a serious discussion about something traumatic and scary to falling apart laughing in each other's arms. When her hand crashes into his and latches on, he claims his victory, ceasing tickling and resting his hand flat on her perfect, soft, smooth stomach, feeling her muscles twitch with laughter as she recovers. 

She lets herself go, trusting him enough with her heart and her soul, allowing him to see these sides of her that no one else had before. She can be vulnerable with him, telling him about scary things that happened to her on the job, then revel in these intimate moments of touch, where her tender skin is at his mercy. He cherishes her, respects her, loves her. She can only tolerate his hand lingering on her stomach for a few minutes before she involuntarily reaches for his hand to pry it off this ticklish spot. 

She brings his hand up to her chest instead, laying it flat and letting him feel her heartbeat, rapid, fluttering, caught up in the moment of play. After a few minutes, her heartbeat returns to normal and she turns his hand over, beginning to trace the lines on his palm with her finger. She drags her fingers slowly, delicately over his skin, savoring each line, wanting him to feel what she feels when he touches her; love. She traces each of his fingers, circles his palm, down to his wrist and, because he lets her, all the way down his arm, then back up, once, twice, half a dozen times, lulled by this affection, something he can’t ever remember having before. Feeling drowsy, at her mercy now, he nuzzles into her neck and whispers against her skin “This is so nice” closing his eyes, savoring her comforts, her skin, all the ways she’s spoiling him with her soft touch and love. It’s her turn to smile at how happy he is in this moment, to know he’s safe with her, to know she wants to be with him, wants to love him unconditionally, best of all, how she tries to make up for lost time, to fill in all those years spent not knowing each other with more love than he’s had in his entire lifetime; what a gift. 

If they have this much fun just laying together in the middle of the afternoon, he can’t wait for tonight, and that sleeping bag.


End file.
